


Waited (For You)

by yellow_craion



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 12:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19745989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellow_craion/pseuds/yellow_craion
Summary: two prompts combined:non sexual gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you."A (whumpee) is on the way to meet B, their SO, for a date or something, but gets beaten on the way there (random muggers or someone with a more personal vendetta, you name it). Afterwards, they can barely do anything other than just lie there, but still force themselves over to their meeting spot because they can't bare to let B down. Bonus if it's a fairly new relationship and B is imsecure and got worried they were being stood up, only to see A coming round the corner all messed up." from tumblr





	Waited (For You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HolyMad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyMad/gifts).



> I'm sorry bunny it got away from me XD

Andrew is late.

Lorenzo’s waiting at the table he booked in advance, at a small but classy restaurant. With a heavy sigh, he glances to the clock hanging on the wall and taps on the table impatiently, trying to not think about the waiter throwing him meaningful glances.

Half an hour.

They went out twice before, so Lorenzo shouldn’t really presume to know the shadowhunter, or expect much. Still, Andrew made the impression of a well mannered, thoughtful young man. Someone that would let him know if anything sudden came up at the Institute.

Lorenzo looks to his phone yet again, hoping he hasn’t just been stood up. He tried calling but there was no response. He would not text - that would come off as needy and desperate and Lorenzo is none of those things.

Not at all.

He has cultivated an aloof reputation, and by now he’s not that bothered by other people’s opinions, but deep down, when he’s honest with himself, he still cares. Too much, sometimes. And recently he cares what this one particular shadowhunter thinks of him. That fact alone is both surprising and scary. It’s been so long since he felt this way.

In the end, he manages to sit through another fifteen minutes before resigning himself to the harsh truth that Andrew is not going to show. He tips the waiter generously and heads out into the warm evening. A stroll will help to clear his mind.

Lorenzo takes a quick look around just outside the entrance of the restaurant, considering the route to take, not paying much attention to a figure perched against the wall on the sidewalk. He is too preoccupied with swallowing his emotions.

That is, until he hears his own name croaked out from the same direction.

He freezes.

His mind must be playing tricks on him.

And yet, he turns and steps toward the figure, fully intending to walk past after making sure that it’s not in fact Andrew.

Except, of course he doesn’t, because it is.

“Andrew!” Lorenzo closes the distance in a quick run, dropping to the ground and looking the shadowhunter over. “What are you doing on the sidewalk?!” He can’t stop the hurt and a little bit of anger seep into his tone, when he adds: “I was waiting for you inside…”

“Sorry, I couldn’t get up,” Andrew gives him a sheepish smile. “How late am I?”

“What do you…” he doesn’t say anything more when his hand touches something wet on Andrew’s shoulder and the man winces and curls in on himself at his touch. “Andrew, are you hurt?!”

“Saw demons on my way here,” he explains quietly, while the warlock is taking a closer look. It’s difficult with the only light coming from a street lamp. In these poor conditions, Lorenzo can only guess at the size and severity of the wound, or even if it’s the only one.

He wishes he could just undress him and see to his injuries.

“Tried to make it quick, I really did.” The shadowhunter’s words are rushed, when he recounts some details of the fight. “But I missed one and then it got me before I could kill it and now I’m late to dinner anyway.”

Lorenzo is pouring his magic over the shadowhunter, trying to get a sense of what’s going on, while silently berating himself for his petty thoughts when Andrew was in danger.

Andrew’s breath hitches as he’s taken by surprise and he bites his lip in a valiant effort to stifle the relieved moan that tries to push past his lips. He’s been just about getting the hang of the pain from the wound, when a cooling sensation of magic seeps into his muscles. It’s almost too good.

With eyes closed he lets himself relax. There’s more magic around him and inside him and he’s having trouble pinpointing what’s happening.

Reprieve ends abruptly, with ringing in his ears - is that blood loss he’s feeling, concussion, or a portal? He cannot tell. And then the coolness reaches the wound itself and it’s like something exploded inside him and it rips a scream out of his throat before he even realizes what’s happening.

There’s no time reference for him to be able to tell how long that lasts. The fact he’s screaming as if somebody is trying to murder him doesn’t factor in anymore. In fact, the rational part of his brain that also knows how injuries of demonic origin are notoriously difficult to heal is no longer actively participating in his thought process.

At this point all he can feel is searing pain resonating through his body, and the angry words ringing in his ears.

_ I waited for you inside! _

This is exactly what he was trying to avoid. The anger.

“Sorry,” Andrew chokes out through clenched teeth, folding into the warlock’s lap. There’s that nice coolness at his forehead now and he breathes out. “I really am, please…”

He sags then, unconscious.

\--

  
  


Andrew doesn’t want to move. The air smells of herbs and flowers, he’s heavy and comfortable on something firm yet impossibly soft. 

His throat is dry, making it difficult to swallow, so he cracks an eye open, reluctantly. When he doesn’t recognize the place, his training kicks in and clears the cobwebs in his mind, making him get up…

...only for him to fall back onto his back with a groan when unexpected pain shoots through him.

“Shit,” he mutters. After a few shallow breaths though, the pain subsides and he looks down at himself for the first time. His shirt is gone, and his shoulder and part of his chest are covered in bandages.

“Andrew?”

He turns to the side to see Lorenzo getting up from a chair.

“How do you feel? Are you in pain?” The warlock lowers himself onto the edge of the bed, next to him, and suddenly there’s not just dryness in Andrew’s throat but a lump he can’t swallow past. The concern on Lorenzo’s worn out face is about to undo him.

He’s been hoping that the warlock cares for him, and their relationship would deepen but to actually see him this worried because of Andrew’s recklessness...

Andrew opens his mouth to speak but when the only sound that comes out is a croak, Lorenzo just waves his hand and a tall glass of water shimmers into existence on the night table. The shadowhunter grabs it and swallows half hungrily.

“Thank you,” he breathes out after he’s done.

Lorenzo just nods to that, before he presses again, “are you in pain?”

“Only when I tried to move too quickly. I think I’m good now” he admits and stares, captivated by the intensity in the warlock’s eyes. A strand of hair dangling over the side of his face takes away from his ever professional appearance, drawing more of Andrew’s attention to the state Lorenzo’s in. His suit jacket is gone somewhere, as is his tie, and the vest is open. The shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbow and Andrew’s eyes follow along his forearm, only now registering just how close Lorenzo’s hand is to his own.

Dare he hold it?

“What were you thinking?” Lorenzo demands quietly, searching Andrew’s face. “That we’d have a nice candlelight dinner with you bleeding on the carpet?!”

The shadowhunter shuts his eyes in shame. “Sorry. I didn’t…” he knows why he decided to go to the restaurant afterwards, but seeing Lorenzo now, distraught as he is, makes it hard for the words to come out. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that,” he looks up and edges his hand closer, almost touching.

Lorenzo is silent, letting him talk, while the tips of his fingers pat Andrew’s hand in encouragement.

With a surprised glance down, Andrew wonders if he’s aware of doing that.

“I thought the iratze would be enough and all I was really worried about was… I didn’t want you to think… I stood you up,” he looks away. “Didn’t want you to think I don’t care.”

“Andrew…”

The pause is worrying, but he forces himself to wait patiently for whatever Lorenzo has to say. Angel knows, he deserves berating, good intentions be damned.

“Can I hold you?”

The shadowhunter’s head shoots back up at that. Having braced for anger or disappointment, what he sees instead is a face twisted in pain. Lorenzo looks more like he’s about to cry than tear him a new one and it startles Andrew.

He nods and Lorenzo comes closer readily, first leaning over the shadowhunter, then climbing up to the headboard. Andrew keeps watching, transfixed as the warlock just lies down next to him, mindful of his injured shoulder, their legs parallel and Lorenzo’s arm draped over Andrew’s middle.

“I’m still angry, mind you,” he clarifies. “What you did was reckless and almost got you killed! But for now we both need rest.”

He hums his agreement, covering the warlock’s hand on his stomach with his own. And as he’s closing his eyes, he decides he rather likes Lorenzo’s body pressed against him, warm and heavy.


End file.
